Homewrecker
by Rozozzy
Summary: Men are pigs. Of this, Kaylynn is certain.


Men are pigs.

Of this, Kaylynn is certain.

She spends her days vacuuming every last lingering crumb on the carpet, spends her days picking up every stray candy wrapper or potato chip bag discarded by her brother and father. She spends her weekends washing the pile of dirty dishes by herself until the late hours of the day, spends her weekends on her bare knees in the bathtub as she scrubs off the last traces of soap scum from its surface.

She sweeps and dusts and folds laundry while Parker plays video games at his desk until four in the morning, while her father snores away his day in front of the television, neither of them lifting a finger to help as they leave their filth for someone else to clean, knowing that someone else will be right there to clean their messes up for them.

And that someone ends up being Kaylynn _._

Always.

"I need you to help me keep this house clean," her mother always tells her, _begs_ her, when it's just the two of them. "Please, sweetie. Your father's messy and Parker's a slob and your Aunt Zelda has never worked a day in her life. You're the only one who can help me keep this house clean."

So Kaylynn cleans and her mother works, and it's a perpetual cycle that the rest of the family more than happily settles into. Kaylynn becomes the only one ever cleaning; her mother becomes the only one ever working.

She sees the same eyes in her mother as the ones she sees when she's looking in the mirror: tired, jaded, harboring resentment.

* * *

During one of Parker's sleepovers, he accidentally knocks over a large box of pasta from the top shelf. The spaghetti strands fly out from above his head, scattering in every direction, bending and breaking as they strike the kitchen floor. Parker and his friends just laugh in amusement, and they even take a couple of minutes to step on the uncooked pasta, snapping them into tinier bits and pieces from beneath their sweaty feet.

"Don't worry about the mess," Parker tells his friends. "My sister will clean it up."

Kaylynn spends all night picking up each and every broken strand while the sounds of laughter in Parker's bedroom travel from below the ceiling.

* * *

At age twelve, Kaylynn dyes her hair black like her mother.

She doesn't go back to blonde after that.

* * *

Kaylynn is fourteen when her mother moves up on the corporate ladder, and Kate Pistachio enters the scene. Kate comes in her white trimmed, black dress that rides high above the knees, with a V-shaped neckline that reveals not-so modest cleavage. She comes in her lace apron that hugs her waist with a headpiece to match, and she balances perfectly in her shiny black heels. She comes in with her full face of makeup, with dark red lips that seem to scream confidence, that seem to hide a million secrets behind her subtle smile.

"Kate is our new maid," her mother explains to her. "This means you don't have to clean the house anymore."

Kate Pistachio comes in full force. She propels Kaylynn off of her balance, disrupting the years and years of routine that has been ingrained into her muscle memory, disrupting the hardwired internal circuitry of her very being.

"I didn't know people got paid to clean up other people's messes," Kaylynn says as she leans against the bathroom door, watching as Kate lifts up the toilet seat and pours cleaner into the bowl. "I always had to do it for free."

Kate takes the toilet brush that's near the wall and begins scrubbing. She offers a quick glance at Kaylynn before her eyes drift back to her task at hand. "If you're good at something, never do it for free," she says casually.

Kaylynn tiptoes closer, squatting by the sink and staring the floor. "I didn't really have a choice," she tells her. "Mom works all time. And my dad and brother don't know how to help around the house."

Kate snorts. She sends another momentary glimpse at Kaylynn from the corner of her eye, fingers still wrapped around the toilet brush as she works her way around the bowl. "That's because they're lazy slobs," Kate points out, shaking her head. "Cleaning isn't hard. It just takes time."

"I hate it," Kaylynn says. "It's boring. I don't know why you'd want to do this for a living."

"Job security," is Kate's reply, and she taps the handle against the rim to shake out the water from its bristles. Kate returns the toilet brush to its stand. "There's money to be made in idle men who need a woman to clean up after them. And those men will always exist."

Intrigued, Kaylynn slowly rises to her feet as Kate walks over to the sink. "What about SimBots threatening to take over all menial labor?"

The question elicits soft laughter from Kate, which echoes amongst the porcelain and glass and tile. "You have a lot to learn," Kate says, reaching for the soap dispenser with one hand and twisting the faucet on with the other. "There's a reason why SimBots will never take my job."

The space between Kaylynn's eyebrows creases together. "I don't get it."

Kate finishes washing her hands and turns off the sink. A slight frown hangs from her face as she pats herself dry with the towel that's draped off to the side.

"You will," she says. There's a darkness to her voice and pity in her eyes. "Just you wait. The world's an unforgiving place to people like you and me. That's why we must hack the system. Make it work _for_ us, not the other way around."

There's a shift in Kate's tone, in the way her pitch heightens with interest, in the way her eyes gloss over Kaylynn's face with intent, in the way her red, red lips suddenly twitch into a smile.

When Kate exits the bathroom, Kaylynn follows.

* * *

It's strange coming home from school without having to vacuum the chip infested carpet or clear half-eaten plates from table or take out the bags of trash that accumulate at the corner of the kitchen. It's strange not being the one whose name gets called when another soft drink spills onto the floor, or when the toilet gets clogged for the third time that week. It's strange to have free time, to have room in the day for something other than homework or cooking or cleaning.

Kaylynn doesn't know what to do with it. It's overwhelming.

"Don't you have any hobbies?" Kate asks as she is dragging the trash bin out toward the curb. The words slip out of her as an off-handed remark, without a trace of ridicule. "All you do is help me with the things I'm being paid to do."

Kaylynn trails at Kate's heels, the recycling bin rolling beside her hip. "I don't mind," Kaylynn tells her.

The two of them stop at the curb and push the trash bins against the edge. The bridge of Kate's nose wrinkles as her head tilts to the side. "The hell? You're a _kid._ You're supposed to be out having fun. Please don't tell me that _all_ you ever did growing up was cook and clean for that brother and father of yours."

"I didn't really have time for anything besides that, other than school," Kaylynn reiterates through grinding teeth, eyebrows creased together. That familiar acidity seeps at the center of her chest, fermenting and fermenting until it turns her insides rancid.

Kate crosses her arms and shakes her head, clicking her teeth with the tip of her tongue. "That's not right," she says.

"I know."

Kate dusts her hands at the sides of her dress and approaches Kaylynn, her heels clanking as they stomp against the pavement. She places a hand on each shoulder, eyes piercing into Kaylynn as if they were knives carving their way into her soul.

"Those men in there would be living in a pile of shit without you," Kate tells her, voice hissing like ice and expression hardened like the concrete beneath her feet. "They owe you everything, but have given you nothing."

Kaylynn knows this. Kaylynn has lived it, and still lives with the weight of that reality each day. Kate's presence has alleviated the physical burden, but the emotional toil still lingers. It makes itself constantly known with every callous on her hands, with every impenetrable stain on her jeans. It's a reminder of what she is to them. Of what she'll always be.

But the only phrase Kaylynn can muster up is, "I know," like the broken record that she is.

"You really need to take up a hobby," Kate says, anger subsiding into simple concern. Her voice suddenly lowers, eyes shifting carefully, and Kate leans in closely so that the space between them is nearly paper thin. "In the meantime," she continues, "I think I can help give you back a little piece of what they've stolen from you throughout these years."

Kaylynn tilts her head. "What's that?"

Kate's smile is red as if she has smeared the blood of her enemies onto her lips, wearing it like a trophy.

"Youth."

* * *

Parker brings his girlfriend over every Saturday. River McIrish is a nice girl, Kaylynn observes, from the many days she has spent over at the house. River has green eyes and plays the acoustic guitar and listens to indie music, which is a refreshing change from Parker's loud and obnoxious electronica where all the songs seem to blend together, unable to distinguish one from the other. River cleans up after herself and Parker too, which is ridiculous because she's the guest and he's the host, but it makes sense why Parker would want someone like her as his girlfriend.

One time Kaylynn caught River washing the dishes and offered to take her place. River declined. The strangest part was that Parker hadn't said anything about it. Normally, Parker makes an offhand comment to his friends about how they don't need to clean up after themselves since "We have someone for that," _especially_ when Kaylynn or Kate are in earshot, but he simply let River finish up before the two of them headed back to his room. The whole scenario left a bad taste in Kaylynn's mouth.

Today is Friday. Today, Parker doesn't bring home River. Today, a girl with fiery orange pigtails comes strolling alongside his arm, smiling and giggling and being far more affectionate than what is appropriate for them to be "just friends." This girl's attention momentarily derails from Parker to focus on Kaylynn, and she waves at Kaylynn with twiddling fingers and a cheery smile.

"Who are you?" Kaylynn asks, politely but carefully.

" _Kaylynn_ , this is _Candy_ ," Parker cuts in, just as Candy was about to speak. He doesn't add anything more to the introduction, but stares into Kaylynn with narrowed eyes, lips almost in a snarl, using his face to broadcast a warning message that only she knows how to decipher. Parker leaves the conversation at that, and shortly after, he and Candy disappear upstairs, the door to his bedroom slamming shut and reverberating down below.

The next day, River comes over, as she always does.

The bad taste in Kaylynn's mouth lingers.

* * *

Kaylynn likes to hang around Kate Pistachio and helps her whenever she can. Kate offers her guidance and companionship, something that Kaylynn never had before when being at home. Kaylynn used to dread being stuck in the house, but Kate makes living here more bearable, more enjoyable.

Kate snatches the vacuum that's in Kaylynn's grip and shoots her a disapproving glare.

"If your family sees you helping me they'll stop hiring me and go back to using you for _free,_ " Kate scolds. She steps on the vacuum pedal and takes over the entrance of Parker's bedroom that Kaylynn was about to start cleaning.

"I appreciate the help," Kate calls over the whirr of the vacuum. "I really do. But if someone's gotta clean up, let it be the person who's getting paid to do it."

"That's fair," Kaylynn says, and she stands idly by, watching as Kate vacuums every little crevice of Parker's room. Kate reaches under and around his desk and then underneath his bed and then maneuvering into the seldom reached corners of his room. There's a certain finesse Kate has that Kaylynn admires, not in how she cleans, but in how she carries herself.

After covering every inch of the room, Kate props the vacuum upright but leaves it running. She opens Parker's desk drawer and fishes out his wallet, eyes flitting to Kaylynn. There's electricity in her eyes that could power a city and a sharpness to her smile that could cut steel, and she continues to stare at Kaylynn while plucking out each individual bill one by one, making sure to leave just enough as to not draw suspicion. Kate slips the wallet back into the drawer and closes it shut. Carefully, calmly, she tucks the money underneath her bra, still holding onto that same smile, still locking her eyes onto Kaylynn from across the room.

"He deserves it," is all Kate says as she switches off the vacuum and begins to roll up the cord.

Kaylynn shrugs, wordless, and leans against the doorframe until Kate is ready to exit the room.

* * *

When Kaylynn catches her father fixated on Kate with lustful eyes and making unwanted advances, she understands why he pays Kate the wage that he does, and why Kate wears that same demeaning uniform day-in, day-out.

Kaylynn thinks about everything that her mother has put into this family and what her father is doing to her in return. She wants to cry tears that never belonged to her. She wants to scream words that should be coming from the mouth of another. It's as if she is the victim of a long-running betrayal that was never directed towards her in the first place.

But it makes her realize something.

There's money to be made in idle men who need a woman to clean up after them.

And those men will always exist.

* * *

Her first day on the job, it's as if Kaylynn was shipped in a time capsule that goes back to the past, as if she was still a little girl trapped inside her current body. Her first day on the job reactivates a set of autonomic instructions that have been on standby for years, and yet they come to Kaylynn so innately it's as if she never stopped using them.

Her first day on the job, Kaylynn makes more money in tips than she does on her hourly wage.

* * *

For Kaylynn's eighteenth birthday, her mother works two shifts back to back, her father sleeps most of the day in front of the day watching TV, and her brother goes to the movies with some girl who isn't River McIrish or Candy Ashleydale. For Kaylynn's eighteenth birthday, her mother gives her a new laptop, her father gives her an expired grocery store coupon, and her brother gives her eighteen slaps on the wrist "as per tradition."

For Kaylynn's eighteenth birthday, Kate Pistachio sends her a freshly delivered package containing items individually wrapped in aluminum foil. A plain white index card with Kate's handwriting rests on top.

 _Hello my dear. What you'll find here aren't conventional gifts. First, life fruit, stolen from the Landgraab family. Next, deathfish, stolen from the Alto family. Lastly, a recipe book, stolen from the Goth family. This is what is required to create the legendary dish, ambrosia, which restores youth to those who dine upon it. You must master the cooking skill before you make it, or it will not work._

 _Ambrosia is more than just a myth. It is your golden ticket to living any life you can dream of. So dream big._

 _Kate_

For her eighteenth birthday, Kaylynn uses up nearly all of her savings to purchase a small one bedroom, one bathroom house and moves out that same day.

* * *

Kaylynn takes her time earning her way. She uses her sex appeal to get extra money from hopeless men who will throw it away because she's young. She hates that she must reduce herself to an object of male attention in order to survive, but she hates society more for breeding a culture that forces her to resort to such tactics. If Kaylynn is going to be treated as nothing more than a pretty face, she might as well manipulate it to her advantage. It's as if she is simultaneously rebelling against and maintaining an unjust status quo.

Kaylynn takes her time perfecting the art of cooking. She tries countless recipes and keeps the cooking channel on 24/7 until cooking becomes as ingrained into her body as cleaning. She'd be the perfect wife for a lazy man, if she cared for it.

Kaylynn takes her time throughout life, watching. She watches neighbors move in and move out, watches them get married and have kids and get divorced. She watches Sunset Valley transform into Pleasantview, watches the rise and fall of the Altos and Landgraabs, watches the Goths take a quiet step towards solitude. She watches her mother pass away, then her father, then finally, her brother.

The ambrosia she eats that night tastes like sweet revenge.

* * *

Don Lothario is the talk of the town. Known to be the biggest casanova that Pleasantview has ever seen, Don tries to play it off as if he isn't, but one look and Kaylynn can read him like a children's fairy tale. Despite this, Kaylynn finds him intriguing, only because of the many secrets he must hold that she wants to know for herself.

When Don Lothario hires Kaylynn for her services, she knows which service he's really after. And Kaylynn doesn't mind, because she's young again and can use Don to satisfy her fleeting desires just as he uses her for his own cheap fun. It's mutual without it being mutual, an unspoken contract that they've never discussed out loud and which only Kaylynn is aware of.

One morning, she finds someone else's bra littered on the floor underneath his bed. It wasn't there before. But this is fine. Kaylynn knows exactly what this relationship means to her and what it really is. They've never talked about exclusivity anyways.

Still. Kaylynn's curious. She wants to turn this into a little game of liars. So she pulls out the bra and approaches Don from behind as he is shaving his face in the bathroom. She dangles the bra in front of his face, which twists into some sort of panic that he desperately tries to play it off as cool. The razor nearly drops out of his hands, but he corrects himself rather quickly.

"Who does this belong to?" Kaylynn asks, feigning innocence with a hint of false rage, as if she genuinely cares about his answer.

Don stutters when he speaks, and it's highly amusing to watch. "An ex," he says, and the lie comes out so effortlessly and smoothly that Kaylynn is almost impressed. He continues to shave, avoiding direct eye contact and focusing his attention to his task at hand. "Never got to cleaning anything 'round here. It's why I have you, babe!"

"You know you're the only one for me, right?" Kaylynn lies right back, resting her chin on Don's shoulder and wrapping her arms around him from behind. She still clings to the bra, but he doesn't notice, even as it drapes against the side of his thigh.

Don cocks his head, beard half shaved, and plants a tiny kiss on the top of Kaylynn's forehead. "And you're my girl," is his response, voice so soft for a moment that any other person would've fallen for it in an instant.

But Kaylynn isn't stupid.

She decides to keep the bra for herself.

* * *

While cleaning for the Caliente sisters, Kaylynn finds the same kind of bra on Dina's dresser. This wouldn't be as surprising, or as amusing, if Kaylynn hadn't just overheard Nina bragging over the phone about how she had spent two consecutive nights at Don's. At first, Kaylynn had assumed it was a weird twin thing to share the same guy, because Dina and Nina seem like the type of sisters to be into that sort of thing. But when Nina ended the conversation giggling about how she's Don's "one and only," Kaylynn is impressed at how he managed to maintain both relationships without the two of them being aware of the other's involvement.

While cleaning for the Goth family, Kaylynn finds that exact style of bra yet again, wedged in between the crevice created by Mortimer's bed and the dresser. Kaylynn can't help but laugh. Pleasantview seems to grow more and more interesting with every passing second. At least Don isn't the only player in town. The problem is that he thinks he is, and that he thinks he's immune to being played.

In Cassandra's room, Kaylynn finds numerous framed photos of her and Don scattered across desks and walls and nightstands. Kaylynn frowns. Cassandra Goth is quiet, shy, reclusive. Not the typical person that Don would go after. Rumor has it that her missing mother was more of Don's type. How peculiar.

Kaylynn continues to snoop through her room, partially out of curiosity, partially out of malice for Don. Her heart freezes for a split second when the door creaks open, and Kaylynn whips out her feather duster pretending to sweep the last remaining pieces of lint that line the dresser. Cassandra walks in with a polite smile and a wave, and there's a dreamy twinkle hidden beneath in her eye that Kaylynn recognizes. It's the same look Nina Caliente gave when on the phone. It's the same look River McIrish gave whenever she was strumming her guitar on Parker's bed.

When Kaylynn spies the engagement ring around Cassandra's finger, she knows she can't let someone so innocent and kind hearted marry such a pathetic excuse of a man, one who's only pursuing her for her money. Knowing what she knows, to let them go through with marriage would be unethical, inexcusable.

To break them up, Kaylynn needs to break Cassandra's heart.

To break Cassandra's heart, Kaylynn needs to win Don's.

* * *

"You're my favorite," Don sighs into Kaylynn's neck as she lies within his arms from inside his hot tub.

Kaylynn wants to laugh out of spite. _Favorite out of how many women you're screwing over_ , she wonders. To other women this phrase would be a term of endearment. To Kaylynn, it's a sneaky double entendre that Don probably doesn't intend for it to be.

"Am I?" Kaylynn asks, nonchalant. If there's anything to take away from how disgusting she feels right now, it's that the glow of the water and the shimmer of the night sky look beautiful from atop his deck. "Won't that make the others jealous?" she adds in a playful tone, but she can feel Don tense up against her as the words she cherry picks slip carefully from her tongue.

"I only have eyes for you," Don whispers after a jagged pause, kissing her temple. He shifts in place, the water splashing around them.

"Then don't marry the Goth heiress," Kaylynn murmurs back, craning her neck so that her eyes pour into Don's soul. She cants her head so that her damp hair trickles over Don's shoulder, and she buries her face against his neck. "I know about your engagement," she states.

With that, Kaylynn knows she's losing some of her leverage now that he knows that _she knows_ about him seeing other women. _One_ woman, to be precise. Kaylynn can't let on that she's aware of the others. Not yet. The timing isn't right. Those pieces of information are to be saved for another day. For now, Kaylynn will continue to use them against him in her mind games.

When Don leaves Cassandra at the altar, Kaylynn sleeps peacefully for the first time in ages.

* * *

Mary-Sue Pleasant reminds Kaylynn of her mother.

Working incessantly for a husband who never cooks or cleans, making the brunt of the family income, busting her ass for people who don't appreciate what she is sacrificing in the name of everyone else. Sure, Daniel Pleasant also has a job, and it's a huge step up from Kaylynn's own piece of shit father. But that bar has been set low, so it doesn't take much for any other scumbag to meet it.

When Daniel Pleasant makes a move on Kaylynn, it solidifies all her preconceived notions about him. He doesn't deserve his wife, while Mary-Sue deserves someone who will value her as a person. Kaylynn cannot let this marriage continue, not while Mary-Sue is working so hard for someone who isn't worthy of it, not while she knows the things that she does.

It would be unethical. Inexcusable.

So Kaylynn indulges in Daniel's flirting. She drops subtle hints. She strings him along. She teases. Behind closed doors, away from his wife and kids, Kaylynn leads him far down the rabbit hole that he's digging for himself. It's so incredibly _easy_ to take advantage of him. He's so desperate, so greedy, that Kaylynn doesn't need to give him much for him to want it all. A kiss here and there is all it takes to wrap him around her finger.

"You should leave your wife," Kaylynn whispers in his ear, eyes locked, arms wrapped around his neck, sitting atop the kitchen counter that she had just wiped clean. "Run away with me."

Daniel tucks a strand of loose hair behind Kaylynn's ear. "You know I can't break up my family," he tells her, eyes diverting elsewhere for a moment. There's a bit of remorse in his tone, but not enough to change his mind. He offers a smirk and kisses the tip of her nose. "And isn't it more fun when you're my dirty little secret?"

"It's exciting," Kaylynn forces herself to giggle.

Daniel nods, and the smug look on his face makes Kaylynn want to punch it away, punch it until he bleeds and repents for all he has done. But instead she smiles and smiles, like a plastic doll whose only job is to smile all day.

"Exactly!" is what Daniel says, his hungry eyes lighting up and tracing over her body like a hawk to its prey. "It's better to keep things this way. But you know I love you more than anyone, right?"

Kaylynn always offers him something, but not everything.

"I know."

She does her research on Mary-Sue. She finds out where she works, who she works for, what time she gets home, how often she works overtime. She knows that Daniel has common sense and wouldn't be caught dead trying anything on Kaylynn while his wife and kids are around; he wouldn't even risk cutting it close. He's an asshole, but he isn't stupid. He's like an oversized, spoiled child who will continue to get away with what he's doing for as long as he wants, for as long as he can.

That's why today, Kaylynn decides to start her day early by pretending that she's a maid where Mary-Sue works. She locates a stack of speeches on the controller's desk and carefully mixes it with papers meant for Mary-Sue. She hopes Mary-Sue doesn't get fired from this, hopes that all this does is set off a series of necessary events that need to take place.

That same day, Kaylynn finally accepts Daniel's advances in bed.

That same day, Mary-Sue comes home early and catches them.

Daniel Pleasant can't have his cake and eat it too.

Kaylynn made sure of that.

 _Fin._


End file.
